


The Crowning

by coconutshrimp



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 20:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12395856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconutshrimp/pseuds/coconutshrimp
Summary: On the night of her brother's "crowning", Daenerys finds herself confused as to her feelings, and Ser Jorah gives her strength.





	The Crowning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vana/gifts).



> This was for Round 16 of the GoT fic/art exchange. It was my first time participating, so I hope I did an alright job. The prompt from Vana was for some Jorah/Dany h/c, and I thought this moment in the first book was a great place to revisit to add a little bit of early UST between the two (mostly on Jorah's side). It's tagged as "Canon Divergence" because, technically speaking, Jorah and Daenerys don't have this conversation until a little later (and it's much better written there).

The night her brother was "crowned", Daenerys Targaryen sat in her tent and studied her expression in her mirror. Merriment surrounded her in Vaes Dothrak - the whooping of warriors, the yelping of maids, the scent of horseflesh roasting on a spit - and her husband was to feast with his bloodriders until dawn. She thought of her brother's death, how he screamed, how he twitched and shook and writhed and pleaded, how the molten gold ran along the lines of his gaunt face, and yet, when she looked in the mirror, she saw nothing - not a grimace, not a wince, not a tear. Her face was blank and her heart was empty, and that struck Daenerys to her very core. Viserys was her brother, her only living relative after the Usurper had butchered Prince Rhaegar and the Kingslayer slaughtered their father as he sat on his throne, and yet she felt nothing. Drogo, her sun-and-stars, had been the one to give him the crown he so desired, and he had even left her brother's body for the hounds once the spectacle of his demise had worn thin, and yet she felt nothing. Viserys had crossed into madness long ago. It was no betrayal to silence him for good. He was her brother still despite his venom, his greed, his cruelty, and his foolishness in threatening her - _khaleesi_ of the greatest _khalasar_ to ever grace the Dothraki sea. And yet.  
  
"My _khaleesi_ ," Jhiqui called to her from outside of the tent, her soft voice gentling the harsh Dothraki tongue, "The Andal Jorah wishes to speak."  
  
Daenerys glanced in the mirror once more and set it down. She ran a hand along the curve of her growing stomach and sighed. "He may enter."  
  
Ser Jorah Mormont had to duck to clear the entrance of the tent, and the top of his balding head nearly brushed the ceiling as he stood - waiting for Daenerys to emerge from behind the privacy of the silken curtain which divided her tent in two. "My _khaleesi_ , I beg forgiveness for my intrusion."  
  
Daenerys slipped past the curtain and motioned for Doreah to help ease her heavily pregnant body onto her pillows then nodded for Ser Jorah to sit before her on the ground. "There is no need, Ser Jorah," she said, smiling wanly as she waved for her maidservant to leave them. "You have been a welcome friend to me." Daenerys had to bite her tongue to avoid adding "and my brother" out of habit.  
  
Ser Jorah returned her smile briefly, his head bowed in respect - according to custom, the only men who might look directly at a _khaleesi's_ face were her _khal_ and his bloodriders on pain of death. "I was there tonight, my _khaleesi_. I do not wish to sour your mood, but I have come to pay my respects and offer my condolences in the Westerosi style. Your brother was the true King of the Iron Throne, and--"  
  
Daenerys bent forward slightly and slipped a hand under his chin, turning his face up to hers and silencing him. His thick, rough beard rubbed against her fingertips. Their eyes did not meet, but he held himself there when she withdrew. "My father was the true King of the Iron Throne. I am all that remains of House Targaryen now, the final heir. My brother was many things, but he..." Something welled up inside Daenerys as she spoke, bubbling up from the bottom of her heart. "He was no dragon at all, was he?"  
  
"No, _khaleesi_ , I think not," Ser Jorah said. "For all his rightful claims, he was no dragon. Your brother was merely a man."  
  
Daenerys wrapped her arms around herself as if a sudden breeze had made it through the layers of leather and horsehair around them.  
  
"He did not die a man's death." She said simply in a voice she thought she'd lost. "He always claimed a dragon should die as Rhaegar did, facing the enemy head on." She chuckled darkly. "But I think Viserys would've preferred to never die at all. He was a coward - I know that now." Daenerys' gaze flickered to Ser Jorah's face, his eyes still turned away from hers. "Ser Jorah, whenever I thought of him, I didn't think of who he was, I thought of who he could be. I thought him the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. I thought him a dragon. I never thought him my brother, who would cry in his sleep, who would stoke my hair gently one moment and tear at it the next, who bore his burdens and mine on his shoulders until his back broke. I never thought him a man in pain, and I suppose that's what he was." A tear gathered on the edge of her eye, and she let it trickled on her cheek. "And that... that was the first tear I've ever shed for him - not because of him, for him. And I think it shall be the last."  
  
Ser Jorah reached a hand to Daenerys' knee but hesitated until she took it in her own. "And let it be the last, _khaleesi_ , or else he will follow you from his grave into the battles to come. You are a queen now, if you should so wish it."  
  
Daenerys' hand went slack. "You think me a queen? Is my claim any less doomed than Viserys'? Will I not also break? We are of the same blood, he and I. The same madness runs through our veins."  
  
Ser Jorah tightened his grip around Daenerys' hand and brought himself up on a knee. His eyes met hers for just a moment, brimming with emotion, before he lowered his gaze to the ground. "The difference, _khaleesi_ , is that you are a dragon, and he was but a man. You will not break, you will not burn, and you will not fall. It is the glory of your house that has carried you this far, but it will be the strength of your will that will win you the throne. I pledge my sword to you, and I pledge my heart."  
  
"Then... arise," Daenerys said, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Mayhap I am a dragon, but I do not doubt the necessity of your steel." She struggled to her feet, the top of her head just barely the height of Ser Jorah's chin, and motioned for him to bend his head. Daenerys kissed him on the brow. "Thank you, Ser Jorah. Truly."  
  
" _khaleesi_... My... queen," said Ser Jorah, his face flushed. "You... have done more for me than you can ever know."


End file.
